


Rains of Ink

by candlelight27



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Rainy Days, Sweet, Vikings, and characters will be added, bookshop au, warnings will be changing as well as rating
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-30 11:54:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12653055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/candlelight27/pseuds/candlelight27
Summary: Viktoria works in a bookshop. One rainy Saturday, she encounters an unexpected customer who will pique her interest. Who is this stranger? And more important, will he come back?





	Rains of Ink

**Author's Note:**

  * For [brightlycoloredteacups](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightlycoloredteacups/gifts).



> I'm sorry for always starting stories and not continuing the others I have. I'm trying to work on that. I hope you enjoy this though. I've been wanting to write this for some time. Lots of love for everyone.

The rain was softly tapping the windowpanes and the sound of distant thunderclaps echoed through the shop.

Viktoria let out a sneeze. She was on the upper floor, in another futile attempt to organize the non-alphabetized chaos the owner, Mr. Larsson, had been accumulating and forgetting throughout years. It was her favourite place, where the oldest and rarest volumes of the bookstore were, and she was determined to catalogue that mess. While she was focused on a dusty pile of books, her cup of tea was getting cold in the opposite corner of the table.

She examined the cover of one of the multiple parts of an encyclopaedia. Barely a couple or letters could be read. With a sigh, she opened it, expecting it to be spoilt. To her surprise, it was well-preserved, and between its pages she found what she was looking for.

_‘Nordisk Familjebok. Redaktör: Th. Westrin’_. It was beautiful inside and outside: the maps and photographs were intermingled with an over-carefully printed text, the paper was thick and yellowed by time, and it was bound in brown leather grooved with diverse motives. Just when she was about to write down in her notebook this information, a sound distracted her.

The front door had been opened, its hinges grinding as always, and closed. Someone had entered.

It was an unexpected visit. During stormy days, clients seemed to vanish into thin air. Viktoria had been alone all afternoon, going over the empty aisles as she returned to their rightful place the books carelessness had put in the wrong order. She raised her head from between the tower of paper on the table to distinguish who had arrived. However, she was unable to see anything. She discarded the possibility it was Mr. Larsson, since he would have notified her if he’d had the intention of going there such a day like that Saturday was.

Viktoria went down the stairs in a hurry, almost tripping due to its narrowness. The wood complained under her steps, the creak a warning of her arrival to the ground floor.

Right as she left behind the last tread, her dark eyes met the stranger.

He, who had been inspecting distractedly the collection, was holding one between his big, pale hands. He had turned his head towards her, and for some seconds they stared at each other. He was a young man. His body was hidden in a thick coat, reasonable in that weather. Golden curls, previously stirred by the hat poking out of one of his pockets, framed his features: porcelain skin, tender lips, and irises of the coldest blue she had ever seen.

And she couldn’t have missed what made him so special: in one of his orbs, there was a figure. A serpent eating its own tale. It was as fascinating as imposing, and she felt she’d get lost in his gaze for hours and never grow tired of the sight.

Yet, despite this thoughts, a blinking made her get back into her senses and avert her look from him.

“If you need help, I’ll be around here.” Viktoria muttered.

She hid between the shelves. Her cheeks were reddened, her pulse accelerated, her nerves frayed. It was not often she felt a storm uproar in her guts by a brief encounter, much less upon stumbling into a customer.

Deterring her own dreamy nature, mostly fed by reading, she convinced herself autumn must have brought a seasonal fever which had been worsened by her tiredness. Perhaps deliberate, perhaps unconscious, Viktoria ignored the fact that the young man had indeed did the same staring as she had, and just with the same facility she had been overwhelmed, she sunk in her own thoughts about work.

At last, after revising the fantasy section for the fourth time, she got out of her shelter. Viktoria would have done another round, lingering on the new illustrated acquisitions, had she not remembered she needed to complete the accounting of the week.

Feigning nonchalance and preventing any noise, she made her way to the counter.

The ledger was spread just where she had left it. She picked up the pencil to make further annotations. Yet it was not that easy to gather concentration on such a boring task. It was a matter of time her eyes wandered and fell upon the young man.

He looked worried. His blond head was going up and down the bookcases dedicated to History. She wondered what he was looking for so endeavoured- it was clear he wasn’t just looking at the different titles for fun. His determination to make the discovery himself was riveting. Likewise, Viktoria’s mind started to mull over his likings and habits. What the book for himself, or somebody else? Would he enjoy fiction or academic works? Could he be one of those people who dislikes reading? She wrinkled her nose at that last thought.

The stranger was humming now. Viktoria felt the necessity of interceding, curiosity and boredom acting both as the final shove- or that’s what she told herself, still oblivious to the mysterious pull that led her to him.

“Do you need a hand, sir?” She addressed him disregarding her faming cheeks.

His shoulders tensed. As slow as hesitant, his turn revealed fidgety hands and his Adam’s apple ascending in a gulp. He opened his lips as if to say something, but confusion twisted his tongue.

“I-I’m trying to find… a book.” Viktoria raised her eyebrows and even let the smallest smirk show, all the while trying not to get trapped in his enigmatic eye again.

“A book?”

He nodded and bit his lip.

“ _The Name of the Rose_.” He offered. He was standing right in front of her. She noticed he was a head taller than him. She noticed many more things, like a few freckles near his nose, like a few whitish hairs on his chin that must have meant he had shaved some days ago. She noticed many things, she just wasn’t willing to admit the reason for her observation. “A fancy edition.”

“A fancy edition.” Mr. Larsson often praised Viktoria’s memory, ever ready to point out a book and its location. She took pride in this, as silly as it may have seemed, it was a little game she loved to play. That’s why her smirk grew; she knew where to find what the stranger was looking for. “I can get you one.”

He smiled. It was a timid gesture, his lips pressed tight together, barely an elevation at the extremes, but a smile nonetheless. A smiled that began to melt her heart.

“So, when…?” He trailed off.

“I think I’ll be able to have it here next week.” She let out a nervous giggle. “It’s somewhere upstairs, but it’s a bit untidy at the moment.”

“Next week then?”

“Next week.” Viktoria confirmed.

He kept his smile. An expression of gratitude was formulated. Light on his feet, he was about to turn around and exit.

“Wait.” She said all of a sudden. The words practically had escaped from her. Quickly an excuse formed in her mind to save the outburst. “I need to write down your name in case I’m not here when you come to pick up the book.”

“Of course.” He brushed his hand through his hair. “It’s Sigurd.”


End file.
